


i don't need the stars 'cause you shine for me

by amosanguis



Series: a/b/o AUs [11]
Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Chicago Cubs, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Hierarchy, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Rimming, Title from a Country Song, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 11:52:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13213176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amosanguis/pseuds/amosanguis
Summary: Kris lets the whine out, because, god, Anthony’s walking way too slow, and Kris wants to get back inside his apartment and away from the stench of Dickhead’s hormones leaking all over the place.





	i don't need the stars 'cause you shine for me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheGirlInThePinkScarf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGirlInThePinkScarf/gifts).



> Title from "H.O.L.Y." by Florida Georgia Line

-z-

 

Kris bares his fangs at the alpha across the hall as he fishes for his keys – the stink of the alpha’s oncoming rut wafting intrusively out of his open apartment and up to Kris as Kris tried to cover his nose and get into the safety of his own home, the alpha’s snickering following him all the way inside.

The alpha had been making eyes as Kris since the alpha had moved in just last month. Kris had tried to talk to the man, telling him exactly how Not Interested he was – but the alpha was persistent, and Kris was nearly at his wits end.

And, because Anthony seems to have a sixth sense when it comes to the omegas on his team, Kris’s phone _pings_ with an incoming text.

 _Dude_ , is all it says.

 _Dude_ , Kris replies. As soon he hits send, he types out another message. _Want to come over?_

Anthony’s response is nearly instantaneous. _I’m already in the elevator_.

Kris grins and tip toes quietly over to his door, looking through the peep-hole to see if Dickhead Alpha still had his door open. He did. Kris debates about giving Anthony the heads up, but it wars with Kris’s desire for Dickhead to see Anthony coming into Kris’s apartment. Then again, pre-rut alphas could be dangerous, and the last thing Anthony needs was to hurt his hands beating the guy’s face in – no matter how thrilling the thought was for Kris himself.

Kris sighs as he looks back down at his phone and starts another message: _My_ _neighbor is a day or two out from rut and he’s got his door open. Might be looking for a fight._

Kris hits send just as he hears the elevator doors open on his floor. Kris feels a whine build in the back of his throat because he just _knows_ that Anthony’s on that elevator and he’s close and Kris can’t help himself – he opens his door and he looks down the hall and there’s Anthony, walking towards him and looking down at his phone, reading Kris’s text.

Kris lets the whine out, because, god, Anthony’s walking way too slow, and Kris wants to get back inside his apartment and away from the stench of Dickhead’s hormones leaking all over the place.

Anthony’s head jerks up and he immediately catches Kris’s eyes.

Kris wants to whine again at the anger he sees there. He knows it’s not directed at him, but _still_.

“Talk about being fucking _rude_ ,” Anthony snarls, his lips curling up and showing off his own dropped fangs.

A snarl comes from within Dickhead’s apartment – the man clearly just catching on that there was another alpha on his floor. He steps halfway out, glancing appreciatively at Kris before his attention is grabbed by another snarl from Anthony.

“Close your fucking door,” Anthony growls. “You stink.”

“He doesn’t think so,” Dickhead says, jerking his head towards Kris.

“I have no clue where you got that idea from,” Kris says, wrinkling his nose in disgust. Then he’s grabbing Anthony by a belt loop and dragging him into his apartment – slamming his door in Dickhead’s face, and turning the lock.

“What? I can’t fight him?” Anthony asks – only half-joking.

Kris shakes his head, snorting as he tries to push the disgusting scent out of his nose. “No,” he says, “then you’ll smell like him.”

Anthony growls at Kris’s door before he finally turns away, apparently deciding to drop it for now. Then they’re both moving further into the apartment, towards the kitchen.

“I take it you came over so that I’d feed you?” Kris asks.

“And cuddling, of course,” Anthony says, taking a seat at one of the barstools at the island.

It made Kris smile; it wasn’t ever expected of an omega to prepare meals for an alpha, usually it was the other way around, with some alphas being offended at the notion they needed an omega to provide for them. Anthony, as was his usual way, spurned all expectations. He was also one of the few alphas Kris has met who openly demanded cuddles – especially from his favored omegas on the team.

As the top of their respective alpha/omega hierarchies within the Cubs’ organization, it was natural for Anthony and Kris to be paired together. Not that it stopped Anthony from scenting Addi or hugging Kyle close have a particularly hard game, or Kris from preening under Jake’s gentle praise or putting his nose under Willy’s neck.

There was no jealousy.

They were all there for each other, just like any family would be.

It was just that Anthony and Kris were the dominant pair – together they dictate the mood for the locker room, sometimes consciously, sometimes not.

“I have ribs,” Kris says, inspecting the contents of first his refrigerator, then his freezer. He frowns before looking back over to Anthony. “I only have ribs. Nothing for a salad or a side.”

Anthony shrugs. “I’ll eat whatever you put in front of me. Unless you’re saving them? You want to go out, instead?”

Kris glances at his apartment door and shudders at the idea of having to walk the gauntlet of Dickhead’s scent all over again.

“Ribs it is,” he says, pulling the packaged meat out of the freezer and setting it onto the counter. Before he could move them towards the microwave to get them defrosted, Anthony was at his side and he was pulling Kris in for a tight hug, his hand on the back of Kris’s head gently guiding Kris to the scent gland under Anthony’s chin.

“You sure I can’t go kick his ass?” Anthony asks, his voice low as his lips move against Kris’s hair. “It wouldn’t take that long, I promise.”

“Not yet,” Kris answers, his eyes slipping close as he inhales Anthony’s scent, his arms wrapping around Anthony’s waist and pulling him closer.

Not quite ready to pull away, but also still wanting to get dinner started, Kris drags Anthony with him as he grabs the ribs and throws them into the microwave – hitting the requisite buttons quickly. Then, still without letting go of Anthony, Kris marches them towards the bedroom.

They fall down together, curling in close and intertwining their legs. It was a win-win; Anthony would get his necessary cuddling, Kris would get lungsful of Anthony’s scent to purge himself of the stink of the unwanted cur across his hall.

They doze lightly until the microwave beeps. Kris is about to extricate himself from the tangle of limbs, but Anthony’s hold on him just tightens.

“Who needs food anyway?” he asks, pulling Kris back down and positioning him so that he was tucked under Anthony’s body, pinned by Anthony’s superior weight.

Kris opens his mouth to argue, but the microwave does it for him – beeping again. Anthony growls at it without even bothering to open his eyes.

“You’re a mess, alpha,” Kris mutters, shoving half-heartedly at Anthony’s shoulder. Anthony just growls at him, too.

If Kris were a lesser omega, he’d be ashamed at what that growl does to him – ashamed of the arousal that hits him like lightning, quick and hot and going straight through him. But he’s not. Because he gets to watch the way Anthony’s eyes fly open, having read everything Kris feels in the way Kris’s scent changes.

It’s hardly their first time – that ship had sailed within their first few months of knowing each other – but it is the first time Anthony drags Kris out of the bed, out of the bedroom, and throws him up against the door.

“Here?” Kris asks, because he sees where this is going and _damn_ , if that exhibitionist side of Anthony doesn’t just do it for him. “Really, Anthony?” Kris tries to be reasonable, but it’s undercut by the way he’s already taking his shirt off.

“If you’re not going to let me fight him,” Anthony says, shucking his pants, “then this is the next best thing.”

The microwave beeps again and this time, Anthony turns away in a huff, snarling as he storms into the kitchen – Kris’s laughter trailing after him.

Then Anthony is back and he’s gripping Kris tight and growling, “I want you to be _loud_.”

And this is all probably a spectacularly bad idea, but Kris goes with it because then Anthony is twisting him around, making Kris brace against the door even as Anthony himself falls to his knees and pulls at Kris’s jeans, tugging them down. A gasp is ripped from Kris as soon as Anthony’s tongue sets to work.

Kris pushes himself back, fucks himself on Anthony’s tongue. Then Anthony’s tightening his grip, holding Kris still, as he bites at the flesh of Kris’s buttocks and thighs.

Kris doesn’t hold himself back, just lets the sounds roll out of him, and Anthony rewards him with his first his tongue, then his fingers, then everything else – until Kris is slamming his forehead against his own door, howling as he comes and as Anthony bites down hard at the mark on the back of Kris’s neck as he spills himself inside of Kris.

 

-

 

Kris’s chest heaves and Anthony collapses next to him, their sweat-sticky shoulders pressed close together.

“Fuck,” Kris says when he’s finally able to catch his breath.

Anthony laughs, full and hearty and filled with pride, because, across the hall, came the vicious and frustrated snarling of Dickhead.

“You’re a menace,” Kris says, grinning even as he says it.

Anthony doesn’t answer but to let out another laugh. Then he’s making himself stand and he’s hauling Kris up and ushering them both to the bathroom, to the shower.

Kris lets himself be herded, goes willingly as Anthony nips and sucks at his bite-claim on Kris’s neck. In the shower, he gingerly washes Kris’s body and hair – then does it all again after he strokes and sucks Kris to completion for a second time.

Then they’re toweling each other off and Anthony slides on a pair of Kris’s basketball shorts and tank top before they head back into the kitchen, and Kris sets back to work preparing them both lunch-slash-dinner. Kris’s slight discomfort from their earlier coupling against the door does nothing to impede him, it’s, in fact, something he relishes.

If anything, that slight pain grounds him – it reminds him of his position. He’s the top omega of the _Chicago Cubs_. His alpha is Anthony _-fucking-_ Rizzo. He’s allowed to ask for Anthony whenever he wants, allowed to sidle up close and put his nose (or tongue) to Anthony’s skin if he ever gets the whim – he’s allowed this access to an alpha of alphas, and he revels in it all.

Just as he knows Anthony revels in his access to Kris – an omega he considers superior to all others. Kris knows this because Anthony is always sure to tell him – not just when they’re having sex, when Anthony is knot-deep and has his fangs to the back of Kris’s neck – but in everyday things, like when they’re dressing for practice or getting ready for another Bryzzo commercial or when they’re completely alone in a hallway and Anthony’s pupils are blown love-wide; like now.

“You’re beautiful,” Anthony says to the long expanse of Kris’s exposed back muscle, Kris busy taking the now-thawed ribs out of their plastic and placing them in a pan.

Kris looks over his shoulder, raises his eyebrow.

“You are,” Anthony says, almost nonchalant.

Kris abandons the ribs momentarily as he leans over the island and presses a soft-sweet kiss to Anthony’s lips, says, “I love you, too.”

Anthony laughs against the kiss, says, “My darling, always,” and then he’s adding tongue and Kris has to force them apart for the sake of the food on the stove.

 

-

 

In the morning, Kris hesitates at the door, but the heat of Anthony’s body pushes him forward and out the door and into the hall – where there’s no sign of Dickhead to be seen nor smelled nor heard.

Anthony growls low in his chest, a rumble of pleasure and pride, and Kris grins, too. Then he bares his fangs at the closed door, if for nothing else but his own satisfaction.

Behind him, Anthony laughs as he intertwines their fingers and tugs Kris along – Kris following happily.

 

-z-

 

End.


End file.
